


The Queen and Her Kings

by orphan_account



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: AU after Monroe's execution, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, At least when it comes to these scenes, Bass is loopy, Canon Temporary Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Charlie Matheson, mature themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2581514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faced with what life would be like if Monroe was dead both Miles and Charlie are forced to re-evaluate not only how they feel about the infamous leader of the Monroe republic, but how this changes their plans for the patriots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Queen and Her Kings

**Author's Note:**

> I recently went and watched the second season of Revolution on Netflix, finished the whole thing in a day. I was sad to learn the show was cancelled, which is what inspired this. It’s AU after Monroe’s ‘execution’. Some canon events may still occur, but just keep in mind that at least when it comes to character interaction this is AU. 
> 
> Also, apparently there is already a Revolution fic named 'We three kings' so I went ahead and changed it to be safe. 
> 
> Enjoy! 

* * *

_“Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family._

_Most of us would give our own life for the survival of a family member,_

_yet we lead our daily life too often as if we take our family for granted.”_

_-Paul Pearshall_

* * *

 

He was dead.

The statement that cycled through her brain was only three words. They certainly shouldn’t have had the impact, the power over her that they did.

General Sebastian Monroe, leader of the Monroe Republic. Bass. Savior. Killer. Family. Miles’ best friend. Partner.

There were so many words to describe who and what he was. From the good to the bad, he had the entire scale under his belt.

He’d saved her as many times as he’d tried to hurt her, succeeded in hurting her.

Charlotte ‘Charlie’ Matheson. Daughter of the people who turned off the power. Niece to the infamous General Miles Matheson. Sister to Danny Matheson. Savior. Killer.

Perhaps having so many conflicting titles ran in the Matheson/Monroe family.

And as much as she wanted to find a secluded area and try to figure out which ones fit her, fit him, fit them, she couldn’t.

Because if she was feeling this torn up and conflicted about his death, she couldn’t even imagine what Miles was going through right now.

The thought spurred her on as she continued her trek to the bar she _knew_ her wayward uncle would be hiding out in. He’d been doing so well in his attempts at laying off the alcohol too.

Until this. Until his best friend was killed and his sometime girlfriend, the woman he loved, deliberately sabotaged the only chance they had of saving him.

It was perfectly understandable that he'd fallen off the proverbial wagon and begun drinking again.

When she stepped inside she had to pause for a second and let her eyes adjust to the dimly lit bar. After that it only took her a moment to scope the space and find Miles.

He was hunkered down at one of the lone tables lining the far wall, bent over a bottle of what she’d guess was Whiskey. His drink of choice.

Moving towards him, Charlie stopped by his shoulder, pausing for a moment to see if he would acknowledge her.

When he failed to do so she was undeterred. She reached out and grasped his shoulder, gripping it tight enough to get his attention even through his alcohol induced haze.

“I’m around.” She told him quietly when he looked up at her, it was her way of letting him know he wasn’t alone.

Wasn’t alone in his grief, wasn’t the only who was already missing the sharp tongued, sometime psychotic man who saved and condemned them in equal measure.

When he still didn’t respond she began to turn away, resolving to give him his space and to check on him again in the morning.

Just as her hand was leaving his shoulder, however, he reached up to grasp it. Shocking Charlie when he brought it up to rest against his cheek.

Holding her breath Charlie moved closer again, stroking Miles’ hair out of his face as he leaned into her hand. As if he could draw strength from her touch alone.

The gesture was at once both foreign and familiar. It wouldn’t be the first time Charlie and Miles had drawn strength from the other’s presence, but it had happened less and less since they’d found her mother.

They stayed like that for several beats, him clutching her hand and her letting him, when he released her hand.

Charlie took a step back, assuming he’d had enough ‘mushiness’ as he liked to call it, and that he was going to return to attempting to drown himself in his bottle.

She was therefore understandably surprised when he put down the bottle and pushed back his chair so he wasn’t so close to the table.

But it was his next moved that had her squeaking involuntarily.

Using his surprisingly dexterous hands (considering the amount he'd drank already) Miles reached out, grabbed her by the waist and tugged her into his lap. Clutching at her like she was his lifeline, his last tether to the cliff he was on the edge of going over.

For a split second Charlie’s head spun as she took in her new position, it had taken him less than ten seconds to shift her from standing to being cradled in his arms.

She didn’t have long to freak out though as Mile’s buried his face in her hair and his body began to shake with suppressed sobs.

Charlie wrapped her arms around him. At once stabilizing her perch and tugging him closer. Once they’d found a comfortable position, with her held in his arms with an almost bruising grip, Charlie glanced around the bar.

Thankfully the only other people in the bar to witness the scene was Aaron, who’d seen similar ones before, and the bartender who was being very careful to keep her eyes averted as she wiped down the counter.

Releasing a sigh of relief, Miles’ wouldn’t want an audience for his grief, she returned her to attention to him.

“Charlie?” he murmured, sounding disoriented.

“I’m here. I’m okay. You’re okay. Every _thing_ ,” her voice broke and Charlie had to swallow the lump in her throat, “Everything is going to be okay.”

Noiselessly Miles shook his head, disagreeing with her assertion.

Charlie didn’t have the heart to argue with him, didn’t even know who had the right of it, and instead chose to hold him tighter.

* * *

_“The family - that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape,_

_Nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to.”_

_\- Dodie Smith_

* * *

 

Miles woke to a blinding headache and the sun in his eyes. Taking stock of his surroundings he realized he was still in the bar.

Apparently the bartender/owner had been kind enough to close around him and leave him to sleep off his alcohol.

Movement out of the corner of his eyes drew his attention away from his surroundings, to his more immediate vicinity.

Charlie was still in his lap.

Miles blinked.

He only had very vague memories of her approaching him last night. And while he did remember pulling her into his lap, his intention had only been to hold her for a moment, to reaffirm to his grief addled brain that at least _she_ was still alive.

He certainly hadn’t meant to clutch at her all night. Even now his hands were fisted in her clothes as she slept.

Thankfully Charlie didn’t seem to mind, her face lax and peaceful in her sleep.

In fact, one of her hands was clutching at his own shirt.

He didn’t have long to soak in the rare relaxing moment as the door to the bar opened with a bang.

Standing in the door way was none other than Rachel Matheson. The last person Miles wanted to see in his hung over, grief stricken state.

The loud noise startled Charlie awake and if it wasn’t for Miles’ quick reaction (and the fact that they were still tangled together) she would have ended up in a heap on the floor.

“Miles?” Charlie mumbled, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from her eyes.

Miles softened, his headache receding to the back of his mind, “Morning, Kiddo.”

She smiled at him sleepily, for a moment thinking they were on the road again, just the two of them. Huddling for warmth during the night and waking up curled in each other’s arms.

“Really?” Rachel demanded from the door way, interrupting the moment, “Not only did you sleep in a bar last night, but you made Charlie do it too?”

Charlie scowled as she slowly levered herself up and out of Miles’ arms, “He didn’t make me do anything.” She returned with a glare, reaching behind her to help Miles stand, all while making sure to keep herself between Miles and her Mother.

She had no intention of letting her mother near Miles this morning. Not after last night.

Apparently deciding discretion was the better part of valor, for once, Rachel let it go.

“Come with me.” She ordered curtly, already turning to leave the bar.

Miles and Charlie exchanged long suffering looks but followed anyways, with Charlie sticking close to Miles’ side.

Once outside Rachel headed towards the gates leading out of Willoughby.

Confused, but too tired to argue the uncle/niece pair followed.

After several long minutes of traveling in silence they reached an abandoned farm house where Rachel stopped and turned to face them.

“Monroe is alive.” She told them bluntly.

Miles stumbled, the only thing keeping him from falling on his ass being Charlie’s grip on his elbow.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said, her voice deceptively calm, “Did you just say Monroe is alive?”

Rachel nodded, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “I was the one who mixed the injection. It slowed his heart to the point he appeared to be dead. I dug him up while you two were getting drunk. He’s resting inside.”

Miles gaped at her, unable to believe this woman. One minute she was sabotaging their attempts to save Bass and now she’d faked his death?

It was enough to make his head spin.

“You couldn’t have let us in on the plan?” Charlie demanded, having apparently elected herself spokesperson for the pair as Miles still reeled from the all too recent blows to his interpretation of the world.

Rachel gave her a condescending look, “You don’t think they’ve figured out who Miles is? His reaction needed to be believable.”

That was the last straw for Miles. Rachel, the woman he’d thought he was in love with. The woman he’d previously been convinced was ‘the one’ had chosen to let him spend a night thinking his best friend was dead.

His brother.

“I want to see him.” He said, speaking for the first time since they’d left the bar.

He didn’t wait for an answer, storming past Rachel and tugging Charlie with him.

He wasn’t sure he could forgive Rachel this time. He knew Charlie had to be feeling something similar. She had only just begun to forgive her mother for leaving Nora to die, and now this?

Once inside it was easy to spot Bass, he was sprawled in a cot in the room off to the side. Miles moved closer, something in him unwinding at the sight of Bass’ silently moving chest.

The first solid proof he was breathing. He was _alive._

Once closer Miles could see a light layer of dirt on his friend, attesting to the fact that he’d been buried alive for some degree of time.

Miles could only hope he’d been unconscious for that part of the ordeal.

Charlie brushed past him, dropping to her knees beside Bass.

“He’s awake,” She breathed.

Miles watched as Bass’ fingers twitched, the only movement he was seemingly capable of.

“He’ll regain mobility as the drug wears off.” Rachel offered neutrally from the doorway.

Miles didn’t answer, moving to join Charlie by Bass’ side.

He leaned over, meeting Bass’ panic stricken eyes. “Hey brother.” He greeted quietly, “You’re going to be okay. Me and Charlie will make sure of it.”

Beside him Charlie nodded, reaching out to grasp Bass’ still twitching hand.

Rachel sneered at the sight of the three of them, feeling sick to her stomach as what remained of her family comforted the man who was responsible for the other half’s deaths.

Unable to watch anymore she retreated to the kitchen. They’d find her when they were ready to talk.

* * *

_“Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family:_

_Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.”_

_\- Jane Howard_

* * *

 

As Bass stared up at his two best friends (Yes, including Charlotte even if the sentiment wasn’t mutual), his only friends really, he tried to speak.

What came out was closer to a groan than anything else.

Charlotte seemed to understand what he was trying to do and disappeared from his line of sight for a second, only to return with a small cup of water.

She exchanged a look with Miles and the next thing Bass knew, Miles was behind him, helping him sit up.

Bass couldn’t quite believe that this was happening. That Miles was essentially in bed with him, letting him use him as a backrest. That Charlotte was offering him water with a gentle look in her eyes he’d only ever seen directed at Miles.

Quickly deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Bass let Charlotte hold the cup to his mouth, taking greedy gulps of the refreshing water.

Once he was done, Charlotte moved away again, making the part of Bass that remembered being buried alive, alone, panic.

She quickly came back though, perhaps sensing his panic, and sat half on the cot. Facing him, she grasped his hand again giving it a light squeeze.

Bass licked his lips, and tried to speak again.

“What… What happened?” He finally managed, his voice scratchier than he’d like.

Charlotte exchanged a look over his shoulder with Miles.

“Rachel drugged you with something that would only make you seem dead. She faked your death.” Miles told him.

Bass blinked. “Rachel?” He asked, unable to quite believe she of all people would save his life.

“I didn’t do it for you.” Rachel said from the doorway, having gotten bored of waiting in the kitchen. She’d expected at least Miles to have come to thank her already.

Instead he was here, practically cuddling with her sworn enemy.

“I did it for Charlie.” She continued, turning her attention to the daughter she barely recognized sometimes. Surely, at least she would see what Rachel had done and thank her.

Charlie just glared, gripping Monroe’s hand tighter.

“Why don’t you go back into town mom?” She suggested, “Surely Grandpa has noticed your missing.”

Taken aback Rachel just stared for a moment. “What about you?” she asked, grasping for straws. She did not want to leave her daughter with Monroe, even if Miles was there too.

Charlie gave her an unimpressed look. “Tell him I’m with Miles. It won’t even be a lie.”

Rachel turned a pleading look to Miles. Surely he would see sense. The three of them all needed to go back.

She’d saved Monroe’s life but she had no intention of playing nursemaid until he was completely better.

Miles shook his head, his eyes suggesting she should have known better than to even try.

Stamping down her urge to yell, Rachel turned on her heel and stormed from the house.

They’d come around eventually.

Bass whistled as she left, “She definitely expected you to fall to your knees thanking her.” He teased.

But Charlie and Miles just exchanged another loaded look, silently acknowledging the truth in the statement.

Bass didn’t notice, however, still loopy from the drugs.

“You missed me!” he sang, tilting his head back to get a look at Miles’ face.

Miles quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Admit it. You _missed_ me.” He repeated, turning to include Charlie, whose mouth twitched.

“You’re high.” Miles told him solemnly.

Bass didn’t care.

_“You both missed me! Because I’m awesome!"_

* * *

_“Families are the compass that guide us. They are the inspiration to reach great heights, and our comfort when we occasionally falter.”_

-  _Brad Henry_

* * *

 

Over the rest of the day Bass slowly regained control of his body, from his extremities inward. He went from being able to twitch his finger and toes, to being able to grip Charlotte's hand, and it only improved from there.

He was particularly happy when after two hours of sitting and talking with his two favorite Mathesons he regained enough control of his arms to tug Charlie closer.

She allowed him to, curling up beside him on the cot.

Bass hadn’t felt this content in years, probably decades. With Miles still sitting behind him holding him up and Charlie curled up in his arms everything was good.

It didn’t magically fix everything. Miles had still hidden his son from him. Charlie had tried to kill him less than two months ago. He had been partially responsible for the death of at least two members of their family.

They all had reasons to be angry with one or more of the group.

But for now they were putting that aside. At least for today.

Charlie turned to rest her chin on her arm, angling herself so she was laying more fully on top of Bass and simultaneously enabling her to see both their faces.

“What do we do now?” She asked, voicing the question they had all been wondering as they talked about inconsequential things. Dancing around the important topics.

Leave it to Charlotte to be the one to bring up the elephant in the room.

“We kill as many patriots as we can.” Miles told her grimly.

Bass hesitated before nodding, “And then you’re going to tell me where my son is.” He stated. It wasn’t a question, Miles was going to tell him.

Charlie blinked, “You have a son?”

But the two men ignored her, “Bass…” Miles trailed off reluctantly.

Bass glared. “You want my help, you help me find Connor.”

Miles sighed. “Alright, help us and I’ll take you there myself.”

“I’ll go too.” Charlie offered, reminding both men she was there.

“What?” She asked defensively when they both just stared at her.

Miles grinned, turning to Bass. “You’re never going to get rid of her now.” He teased. He recognized the stubborn look on his niece’s face.

It was the same one she’d had when he’d ditched her, Aaron, and Maggie to go find Nora the first time and she’d followed him anyways. Looking back he could admit to being impressed with her ability to track him.

That seemed like a lifetime ago now.

Bass gaped like a fish.

“You’re not trying to kill me anymore?” he asked, because even though he’d gotten her to see that they needed him, a part of him expected her to go back to trying to kill him as soon as he outlived his usefulness.

Charlie shook her said. “The way I see it you died last night. This is your second chance, don’t waste it.”

Her voice allowed for no argument and Bass found himself nodding along, his arms tightening around her.

Charlie had forgiven him, Miles had seemingly forgiven him too, and they were going to help him get his son back. All was right with his little corner of the world.

He could only hope that he could resist the next time power was offered to him. That he wouldn’t fall back to his old ways.

After all, wasn’t that how the saying went?

The road to hell was paved with good intentions.

He and Miles could attest to that.

* * *

_“We cannot destroy kindred: our chains stretch a little sometimes, but they never break.”_

_-Marquise de Sévigné_

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> The End! As of now this is just a one shot. I needed some hurt/comfort scenes between my favorite characters after I realized the show was cancelled. Who knows though, maybe inspiration will hit and I’ll continue this.
> 
> Also, if you couldn’t tell I’m not a fan of Rachel’s character. I tried to keep from falling into bashing territory though. Hopefully I succeeded. 
> 
> Did you Love it? Hate it? Let me know. And if you’re feeling particularly generous, tell me why.


End file.
